


A Journey for the Hungry

by PyreLegion



Series: The Sapphire Star Works [1]
Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Monster Hunter World: Iceborne DLC, Monster Hunter: World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyreLegion/pseuds/PyreLegion
Summary: "Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves and others," she told him. The next day she disappeared. He hasn't seen her for months on end, and Halvor's believing he's lost his family for good. There are clues to where she's gone, but, when he arrives in the New World, no sister greets him. It's a cluster of wyverns and several other Commission hunters, the Commander saying his sister isn't there. But isn't she? He can feel her with him. Why can't he find her?
Series: The Sapphire Star Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986514
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Capcom characters in this work or profit from this work and future works in the series. I do own both main protagonists but gain nothing from them. Note: Ages of characters such as the Excitable A-Lister have been tweaked for the purpose of these works. It is my goal to provide an interesting and immersive story based on my experience with Monster Hunter World and Iceborne. Also, my apologies upfront for the summary; it will probably change as I work more. Please enjoy.

Barin’s footsteps crunch the grass as he walks behind his daughter. She’s holding her head high to survey her surroundings, and, despite being six years old and short, the little girl uncannily knows her way around the jungle-like forest. Years ago, the hunter wouldn’t have believed he was going to the New World, let alone having one but two children once he got there. “Felixiae!” he calls when the girl gets too far ahead. “Pace yourself. We still have time.”

The father stops abruptly when his child turns to face him. Those eyes always shock him: her right an arctic blue with the left an apricot shade. Both are crisp, the light shining through them easily, and clear. The shades are light, much more than Barin’s own jade green ones. Her hair—a scarlet shade that turns dark to light and light to dark in the sun’s moving rays—is more vibrant than his sandy blond. Freckles litter her upper body due to sun exposure, and her skin is lightly sun-kissed. “Daddy?”

“Yes, love?” Her voice brings him back to the forest, rather than him continuing to be in some experiential limbo where he can observe to his heart’s content.

The child’s eyes go wide as several birds burst through the trees, cawing their distress. “Something’s coming.” She runs from her place to her father, grabbing his hand tightly as she weaves them through the grasses. The rock they scale is large enough to hide them from any large wyverns stalking around, and—sure enough—after getting settled away from the edge, loud thumbs sound, each footstep coming closer, then an Anjanath emerges from the forest.

The beast walks past to go hunting for Aptonoth, and Barin recalls his hunting days on the plains beneath Bherna. The travel to Minegarde left him aching for sleep and water for days, but the Second Fleet’s ship arriving at the shores of the New World quenched any desire he felt. The ability to travel into the forest with his daughter also diminishes the longing—the homesick—feeling nipping at his heart. The girl continues to watch the brute wyverns feasting on its prey as her father climbs down from the cliff. Without a word, Felixiae follows him by jumping down, knowing her parent will catch her easily.

Minutes later, Astera’s gate comes into view, and Barin is lifting his girl to parade her up to the armory. There the engineers greet them with shouts and grins, and the child acknowledges them with a small nod before climbing the stairs to the lookout. Barin huffs happily at the sound of the Admiral’s voice; he knows the girl will be safe with him. Another hunter bumps him on the shoulder and points to his room, indicating there’s something amiss with his wife.

Above, sitting in the Chamber of the Five with the Admiral and the Huntsman Verner, the redhead sits patiently with her hands in her lap, eyes gazing around the room. “Where did Pendric go?” Her question takes the two men by surprise, both turning to face each other while the child slides down from her place on a bench. “Should he really be out there, by himself? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“When did you become so observant?” the Admiral snarks, laughing out loud. “He went to go look at some things.”

“He hasn’t been back for months,” she states, turning towards them, twin fires burning in her eyes. “What is there to see out there?”

“We don’t know, Felixiae,” Verner provides, leaning forward to grip the girl’s shoulder, pulling her onto his lap. “That’s why he’s out there looking.” The child doesn’t look pleased or satisfied with that answer but lets the topic drop, turning her attention to the stained glass above their heads.

“Tell you what, kid,” the Admiral speaks. “If you’re that worried, I’ll head out to look for him.”

“Doesn’t Astera need you?”

“Hmph, you just don’t know when to pick a side, huh?” His large hand ruffles her long scarlet hair effortlessly, and the attention makes her feel warm inside. “To lead, well, that’s Keelan’s job now.” His loud laugh cuts off any protest from the girl. She hops down from Verner’s lap to follow the larger man out of the chamber. Once outside, she tugs on his wrist, halting his movements. “Before I forget, here.” The man pulls out a gem, one the child recognizes as belonging once to a Rathalos. It sparkles brightly in the moon’s shine, mesmerizing her. “Keep that safe while I’m gone, alright? Also,” his speech halts as he kneels to be face-to-face with her. “If anything happens, come to me. I’ll always be there for you, kid!”

The morning sun hits the child’s window with a blinding light. She feels the change in atmosphere in Astera and rushes from her room to see Commander Keelan talking with Alexio before the giant man walks off, his pack slung over his shoulder. The girl glances over to her parents, making sure they’re still asleep, before she dresses quickly, grabbing a piece of charcoal and cloth off a desk. She closes the door as quietly as possible then sprints up the staircase to jump onto a tree branch. It sways under her weight momentarily as she continues running.

The Ancient Forest is large, a vast system of trees and swampy areas that draw in Aptonoth looking for places to sleep in the shade. The route she’s chosen takes her to the top of the forest, and the opening area allows the redhead to look out at the sea surrounding the land. Something catches her attention, a feeling, and she’s moving back under the branches just in time to see a red wyvern fly onto its nest. “Rathalos,” she whispers, eyes flickering over the dark details under the male’s wings, the scales on his head. He looks her way, tilting his head back and forth before turning the other way to sleep.

 _It really tests to see if something is there by watching_ , she thinks, wandering down the path of branches. _He watches to see if something moves before attacking._

A rustle to her right makes her stop. She shifts slowly to see a small figure, shorter than her, with a holed material over their face. “Hello, child of the forest,” it says in half-tongue.

“Hello,” she manages, having heard Pendric speak Wyvernian once before. “Are you… a First Wyvernian?” The figure confirms her question with a simple yes. The child opens her mouth, planning on asking another question when the figure stops her.

“Now is not the time… You must stand at the top of the food chain…” It grumbles in return, moving to walk away. Suddenly it turns back, pulling out from under its cloak a necklace, whose pendant is glowing with an energy so bright it shows the rainbow in its light. “However… Have this.” The girl’s fingers reach to touch the stone hanging there, skin brushing against the First Wyvernian’s own, and the amount of power she feels after gripping the stone makes her gasp. “A gleaming streamstone, taken from a tempered monster. Proof it ruled for an age as a tyrant unchallenged.” 

“What?” she whispers, feeling the power rush over her body. “But what monster-?” She stops herself after looking up, the First Wyvernian no longer in sight. Behind her, footsteps crunch leaves on the branch trails. She slips the necklace over her head, tucking it beneath her high-necked shirt, and spins to see the distinct musculature of the Admiral’s arm coming into view.

The man halts when the girl’s image hits his peripheral vision. “Wha-Felixiae?!” he shouts.

“What’re you doing up here?” another person asks from behind Alexio. The soothing tone is typical of only one man. Pendric stops a bit in front of the Admiral, face relaxed and relieved.

“I wanted to see a Rathalos,” the redhead answers, making the larger man laugh. She sustains eye contact with the Wyvernian, her face surprisingly calm and collected. He can tell she knew she wasn’t going to be reprimanded.

“Did you find one?” the braided man asks, walking over to the child’s side.

“Yes,” she nods, turning to point up to where the male’s nest is. “He’s sleeping up there.” The hunter hums, handing finding scarlet hair to muse it slightly, eyebrows furrowing a little as he touches her. The warmth the child feels from the affection slowly fades away as she sees the change in his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he drawls, kneeling to be face to face with the girl. “But where did you get that?” A small thump on the stone beneath her shirt indicates the man’s followed her game.

“A First Wyvernian-”

“So, kid!” The Admiral’s loud voice cuts off the conversation between the two, making the Wyvernian stand up. “Planning on going back to Astera?” Felixiae’s eyes dart to the side, face contorting as she thinks, then her head shakes. “No? Think you’ll be alright out here alone, huh?”

“I’ve made it this far alone,” she states, eyes focusing on the ground and tone defeated sounding.

“Cheer up! I’m only given’ you a hard time!” The Admiral aggressively ruffles her hair, producing that warm feeling again. “We’ll take you to camp and then you can make your way back before it gets too dark out.” The child smiles softly and nods, making the two men smile also.

The camp set up by Pendric allows the girl to study the waves again, watching the water ripple as fish leap through the surface and back under. Pendric stands next to her as she writes, observing her superior drawing skills. “That’s rather good,” he states, watching the charcoal become smudged as she watches a fish continue leaping. When the girl turns to him, the wind catches the cloth, making it float away from them and land in the sea, a far off speck in the distance. Disheartened, the child tosses the charcoal back into her small drawstring on her belt, wiping her blackened fingertips on her pants.

“It was good,” she sighs while standing up. “It’s a fair wind today, though.”

“Indeed.” The man looks to the sky, trying to hide his thoughts from the girl. “Do you often sneak out of the village like this, Felixiae?”

“Hm? Oh!” The redhead opens and closes her mouth, moving air underneath her upper lip before letting it out with an audible whoosh. “I’ve done it once or twice before. Didn’t go this far though. I, uh, usually try to stay around Astera.”

“Why did you come out this far then?”

“I…” The child pauses, face no longer guilty-looking but reflective and relaxed. The change makes Pendric intrigued. “I felt something… Like today was the today that I needed to go further.”

“Do you feel the energy of the places around you?” The hunter is looking back to the girl while keeping an eye on Alexio starting a fire at the tent.

“S-sometimes… It’s hard to explain. Is there something wrong with me?”

“No,” the Wyvernian reassures, smoothing her hair. “You’re lucky to be so attuned with the earth. But, just to be safe… keep those feelings a secret until you’re older, and that stone.” The child nods promptly before gripping the man’s hand.

“I don’t understand why, but… you’re my father, not Barin.” The comment makes the man’s eyebrow twitch slightly before the Admiral is cutting off their conversation once more.

“Ready to eat, kid?” Alexio shouts, laughing as the girl’s eyes light up to the thought of food. “Got a nice juicy steak just for you, c’mon!” When the Seeker ushers her forward with a guiding hand, Felixiae has no choice but to eat. She sits down to dig into the steak despite her want to spend the rest of the day in the silence of the Wyvernian’s presence.

After the meal, Pendric is standing up to grab his insect glaive. The child’s heterochromatic eyes betray her feelings of fear and loneliness before she can cover them up efficiently. To calm her, the hunter reaches out to ruffle her hair again, smiling fondly at her. “Take this.” A leather-bound book is handed to her. “Fear not, you’ll see me again.”

The Admiral escorts her back to the edge of Anjanath territory, knowing the red beast won’t come this far to look for meals. “If you head up that way,” he states while pointing to the left, “make sure to follow the left trail. Anjanaths can show up in the treed area ahead. If there’s any trouble, hide in the tall shrubs. You won’t be able to outrun anything big.”

The girl waits until the Admiral is out of sight before heading into the treed area. There’s water right before a path opens into the back of the forest. Felixiae keeps close to the trees, crouching in the shrubs in case something comes along. While she hides, an Anjanath does appear, at least one hundred paces from her position. Luckily it walks right out of the area, allowing the girl to follow the path to the back.

Immediately the sound of something crying gains her attention, making her turn back to see the Anjanath holding something in its mouth. The smaller, white, and fluffy creature squirms against the teeth poking into its side, ripping its flesh open, all while screaming. Another beast stalks down the path, a blue-silver color with white feathers, roaring into the Anjanath’s face. The hurt animal is dropped onto the ground a couple of feet and staggers off past the new beast.

The two monsters are roaring at each other when Felixiae runs out of the area and drops into the water below, following the small creature. It lays beside the water, side bleeding but not deep, and whimpers in pain as it tries to move. Her gentle hands lift the thing from its sorry state, and it allows her to brush some water over the wound. The fight is still going on above, but the girl pulls off her outer shirt, tying the long arms around her neck and the bottom pieces around the sides to make a sling to hold the small animal while she climbs.

She works fast and efficiently, placing the thing into the fabric, then climbing up the vines. The Anjanath is still fighting the other monster, and the girl runs up the path to find another set of vines and a waterfall. Behind her, she hears the sound of padded feet following her. After climbing, the child sees feathers matching the fluff of the creature and follows them to another area. She stops short of moving when a nest of five similar creatures is, and she knows it’s their parent who’s following.

There’s a humming noise behind her, and the animal in her sling cries as the beast moves into the girl’s field of view. It watches as she moves to stand in the nest, taking out the monster’s offspring and removing a vial from her bag. It’s a green color, made from herbs and honey, and she knows it’ll heal the creature in a few hours. She pours it over the wound, the cries of discomfort and pain fading away. The tiny thing ruffles its feathers once she’s placed it back in the nest, and after having a minute of sniffing its parent, it wanders back to the human, crawling onto her leg as she remains kneeled.

The fluffball seemingly squeaks and purrs happily in the presence of the girl, some flashes of blue-white light sparking in the air. She flinches; it’s electricity and zaps her minutely, enough to shock but not harm. When the beast lays down in the nest to sleep, the child quietly exits the portion of the forest, handing a piece of her steak to the healing creature before going. At the gates of Astera, she’s greeted with the sight of Rathian armor and the Commander. Her shirt is wet and clinging to her stomach, the top half not wet yet.

“And where have you been?” the Commander asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“I was picking some mushrooms,” she half-lies, showing the man her blue mushroom haul. “I fell on the beach trying to catch a fish.” She gestures to her wet clothing as the man’s eyebrows furrow deeply.

“Don’t leave without telling someone, next time,” he replies, relaxing his posture. “Natasha’s looking for you.” From behind the two men, a woman paces up and down the tradeyard, screaming. The girl’s face turns into an apprehensive, annoyed, sullen look. “Tarrow’s taking Alexandros to the lookout to study and craft. Go with them.”

“But-”

“Felixiae!” The Second Fleet Master saves her just in time, scooping her off the ground to walk back to the armory. “Gonna make something great today, you and I! Just you wait!”

“So you’re Felixiae!” The Commander’s grandson is currently sitting across from her, stuffing his face with food as she flips through books about blacksmithing. “Whole village was looking for you earlier.”

“My apologies.” Her answer is both polite and blunt, indicating she doesn’t wish to speak but to listen to Tarrow’s ramblings about making his first greatsword.

“You’re really into that, yeah?” Twin flames stare into pale blues, and the boy clamps his mouth shut immediately, lost in the fire burning behind arctic blue and apricot. She waits for his response with a neutral face, furious orbs the only indication that she’s wanting to sit quietly. Despite that, he continues. “T-the metal-”

“Must!” she starts, a little louder than she intended because the Fleet Master is now quiet too. “Must you… always talk?” The slowness and pause in her voice make the older boy quiet down instantly, eyes wide as she sighs, orbs glancing off into the distance, before turning back to the pages.

The boy’s mouth opens and closes, though no sound comes out. Tarrow stares at him with a half-smirk, knowing the girl’s the only one who’s been able to get him to be quiet. “Alexandros,” he calls the boy. “Let her read.”

What seems like hours later, the sun sets on Astera, and Felixiae pauses her reading to watch the colors in the sky change. A rustle beside her indicates someone has moved closer—definitely not her mother because there aren’t any screams. With her peripheral vision, the redhead can make out the mohawked boy’s hair pulled into a tight braid running down the middle of his skull. He looks slightly unsettled, having been left by himself with the girl.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, orbs never leaving the sunset. The breeze swings her long hair around her shoulders, reminding the boy of the Teostra description he read earlier. It somehow sparkles in the dusking light, and, because he doesn’t respond, her eyes shine pretty too when she looks at him.

“Not a big deal,” the boy responds, throwing himself back onto the ground, arms crossed behind his head. “I’m sorry too, for talking too much.” When the girl continues to stare, Alexandros smiles, watching the other’s eyes change with unknown emotions. She turns back to the sunset, face a light pink.

“Come on, Felixiae!” The boy runs ahead of her into the forest, both wanting to get out of the village for a couple of hours. The Commander agreed, provided they stay in the immediately surrounding areas. The redhead, her hair now pulled up into a starred crown braid, walks with purpose behind her friend, eyes taking in the view of the trees and wildlife. A forest pteryx hops down in front of her, squawking before leaping onto a tree to climb away.

“They’re pretty,” she states, stopping to watch the light reflect off the animal’s feathers.

“Yeah!” the boy confirms, standing next to the girl. They both continue walking and watching their surroundings, laughing and smiling at similar things. Eventually, as a giant winding trunk comes into view, Felixiae’s face goes pale, gripping on one of Alexandros’s wrists tightly. “What’s wrong?”

The girl pauses, eyes wide and focused on nothing in particular, and the Commander’s grandson can hear the stomping in seconds. “Up there,” she whispers, pulling the boy with her to begin climbing up the tree branch structure above the forest floor. Below them, an Anjanath stalks, stopping to smell the air several times. Felixiae climbs quickly the rest of the way to kneel on top of one large branch, waiting for the boy to catch up. They both pant, adrenaline running high as they’ve been pushed into the back of the forest.

“Grandfather’s gonna be so mad,” Alexandros whispers, still breathing hard.

“It’s not our fault,” the girl pants. Something wet drops on the children’s foreheads, making them look up to see the rain pouring down. “Ugh! We’re gonna freeze if we don’t get back!”

“Maybe it’s gone…” As the children move to leave, two figures walk around into their view. “The Admiral…?”

“Pendric!” she whispers breathlessly, running down the branches to go to the two men walking.

“Hello, Felixiae,” the Wyvernian hunter states. “What’re you doing today?”

“An Anjanath was walking through,” the young boy states, running up to stand at Felixiae’s side.

“And Alexandros this time, too! You kids have to stop getting into trouble!”

~~~

The boat rocks on the sea, a bright yellow and white banner flapping in the breeze. Below, hunters are gathered. At a table, one hunter sits, dressed in simple leather armor, trying to find his handler. Across from him, a strawberry blond plops down, yelling excitedly at him. The hunter listens—he does not speak—and looks around to find who he’s supposed to be partnered with. He sees someone who matches the description the Guild gave him and moves to speak with her.

The boat retches on the sea, and somehow the hunter is running out onto the deck only to be thrown off. His palico friend is lost, and he’s standing on a mountain of fire. The handler from before is with him, both running to get off their new transport as soon as possible.

The sea beneath them crashes wildly as the hunter prepares himself to take a nice leap off whatever this thing he’s on is.

 _Join the Fifth Fleet_ , he thinks, remembering from a past he wished to have again. _If she’s not here… then why am I?_


	2. Chapter 2

The jump off the front of the elder dragon Zorah Magdaros frightened him a bit more than he’d like to admit, but it’s safe to say the adrenaline helped immensely when he was swan-diving off the damn thing’s head. The walk to Astera was relatively easy: Jagras—despite not having a weapon—do not seem particularly life-threatening and the rest of the path is calm. While walking the handler is all over the place, running here and there, looking at this and that, continuously chatting her mouth off. He’s stunned she hasn’t bitten her tongue yet.

 _And she’s loud!_ he muses, smirking as she continues rushing ahead of him. _Good thing nothing’s out here, with her big mouth something would’ve already come along!_

They pick up some tracks, appearing to have been made by some object dragging against the ground. Skidmarks of a kind. The girl moves over to another one, farther away from the hunter. A moment of silence passes before a scream snaps the hunter’s focus to the other, immediately jumping to help when a green, maned beast towers over her, snapping its jaws. While running over, a man jumps onto the monster’s back, beginning to stab it with a knife.

His giant greatsword remains fixed to his back as the monster throws itself into a large root that emerged from the ground. The root breaks, throwing the man off, the handler proceeding to run behind him and ahead to get away quickly. “This way, move!” the new person yells, turning to begin the ascend away from the creature. The hunter, having stopped to let the man work on bringing the monster down, hops into motion, too, attempting to catch up quickly.

The other two are standing behind some kind of gate. The hunter rushes to get there faster, pushing his body harder, when he has no choice but to halt his movement, sliding and digging his feet into the ground to stop quickly. A large red and brown monster leaps to begin assaulting the other monster, swinging it around like a dog with a bone. “C’mon! In here!” The two voices overlap as he stands underneath the red monster, having evaded its legs already. He turns, stopping and curving his body when a foot stomps in front of him, and runs out from underneath the monster.

“Jump!” the man yells, watching as the new hunter leaps through the air to jump over the tail about to swat him, landing on his face, a wooden gate dropping behind him after a rope is cut. After catching his breath and lifting himself up, the hunter finds himself running along the handler and the man, a giant toothed gate coming into view quickly.

Astera. It’s a relatively large village considering the only people who’ve sailed here are from the five fleets of the Commission. The tradeyard is packed with people, some being tended to while others are pulling crates from place to place. The hunter patiently waits while his new excited friend and his stern-looking handler talk with him again, watching as the other man runs to get the Commander.

The Commander’s talk with the hunter and his handler is cut short as someone close to Astera’s gate shouts. “Incoming! Get down!” The injured hunters at the horned entrance start with loud talking and gasping, some trying to get their helpers and medics to drag them backward as a red object—most definitely some type of wyvern—comes barrelling from the sky towards the ground. The body heaps onto the path to the village with a loud sound, and the black markings seen under its wings signify it’s a Rathalos and a very mangled, very dead one at that.

Many from both the Fourth and Fifth fleets circle back towards the monster, eyes wide at the appearance of a masked individual pulling an iron long sword from the beast’s back. Moments later the person is jumping down and stepping past others at the gate to see other hunters running to her. “Gods, you’re alive! We thought we’d lost you!” The men are dressed in leather armor, similar to the huntress’s own save the cloth hiding her face. “Ah, Commander!” one of the shouts while turning to the man. “This is Zlota. She hasn’t had a chance to meet her handler yet.”

“I’ll have a look at her papers to see who she’s got. It’s good to see you’ve made it despite Zorah Magdaros messing with things. Would you mind showing them around?” The man is talking to the greatsword wielder next to him, who nods immediately.

“Name’s Alexandros, by the way. I’m the Field Team Leader here.” The mohawked man quickly ushers them along to see the entire tradeyard, the Smithy and his workers, and the Canteen, where the hunter is reunited with his Palico. “Haven’t been able to find your Palico though,” the muscular man states while looking at the masked woman. She throws her head to the side, making the other look the same way. There he sees a grouchy looking tan palico with beautiful dark orange, black, and white markings. It’s extremely long tail flickers back and forth, large ears also twitching. The woman kneels and pulls out a small hollowed stick with holes in it, thumping it onto the ground softly, bells rattling within. The palico’s ears flicker at the high-pitched sound, the others around flinching at the produced noise, while the tan one leaps up to the woman.

“Meowster, you’re here!” The woman nods, standing up just in time for a horn to be blown.

The entire Fifth Fleet gathers at and around the council table in order to hear what the Commander has to say. While there, he takes a moment to ask and assume which hunters of the fleet would be the best of them, stating that the Fifth’s members would then be relayed information from the best after the chosen hunters would prove themselves to be reliable. Naturally, the woman who dropped from the sky is mentioned right away; she’s standing across from the Commander himself and offers a nod when an inquisitive look is offered to her. Some other members mention the also late-arrived redheaded hunter, who takes his place standing next to the masked woman. Both accept the challenge silently to prove their worth quickly while the other hunters and handlers state their eagerness to get their hands filled and dirty with quests.

“Well, Zlota and… Halvor will be your leaders while undergoing the first few missions. As A-listers, they should be capable of helping everyone in various ways. But don’t hesitate to ask the rest of the fleet members here with any questions you might have.” The Commander flips through their papers quickly, making sure their details are the same in person as they are written in ink. “Zlota,” he calls to the woman, causing her head to tilt back towards him as he continues speaking. “You’ve no handler?” One of the woman’s arms uncross from its position on her chest, shaking her hand back and forth.

“She’s mute, sir,” another hunter provides, a person the Commander recognizes as Ivan, a B-lister. “Hasn’t spoken a word since we left Minegarde’s shipyard.”

There’s a pause in the man’s voice before he continues, studying the covering on the woman’s head. “That some kind of modified veil?” His tone is serious yet funny, making his grandson chuckle behind him. The woman rips off a piece of parchment from a book on the table, writing on it quickly before tossing it to Ivan.

“She-she, uh, says it’s a Rath Heart helm, sir. It’s G-rank Pink Rathian armor.”

“How did she get that here?” another hunter starts. “The Guild only wanted us to wear leather or chainmail-”

“Hmm, well,” the Commander continues, cutting off any unnecessary chatter as he flips through her filed papers, coming to the portion about some ugly scarring around her eyes. He decides to drop the topic; she’ll have to wear different gear soon anyway. “The Guild thinks you’re capable on your own with your palico. I’ll believe after you complete your first assignment. Be sure to take notes during and after you’ve finished.” The woman nods, clapping Ivan on his shoulder as she turns away from the council table, knowingly dismissed. “And… Halvor, yes?”

The hunter turns to the Commander, letting the man get a good look at him with the sunlight beaming into his face. The man can see the sapphire-toned roaring dragon growing from his left side’s jawline to his left temple, a burnt orange three-marked diamond on his forehead, and a cerulean wing covering his right eye. His right orb is clear teal-colored, the left is a bright ultramarine.

“Felixiae didn’t come with you?” The question makes the hunter visibly flinch, sadness flowing over his face immediately.

“Doesn’t seem like it, sir.” Halvor’s familiarly similar shaded scarlet hair ruffles in the wind, goosebumps rising on the back of his exposed neck. “How did you know my sister was supposed to be coming?”

“Guild sent us her papers,” the man states, picking up a tied package of parchment with Felixiae’s name written on it. “Doesn’t seem to have anything particularly noteworthy in it though.”

“Wouldn’t know, sir. We didn’t speak much after we entered Dundorma. Only simple conversations before she’s head into the field and be gone for weeks.” The Commander’s face looks troubled as he glances down at the file and the map beside it, sighing quietly. The hunter turns and takes his leave without being dismissed directly, and Alexandros shows both him and the masked woman to their quarters, which they’ll be sharing with the excited strawberry blonde.

The woman chooses to keep her iron katana as her weapon, moving to walk out of the sleeping quarters when the excitable hunter stops her. “Since we’ll all be staying here together, why not introduce ourselves before heading on quests? I’m Phelix, and this is my handler Fleura and my Palico Helios.” The solid chestnut-colored felyne waves his paws around wildly beside the calm and collected handler.

“Oh, okay!” the redhead’s handler shouts in response. “I’m Kayla, Halvor’s handler, and this is Zane!” Beside the hunter is a gorgeous black, white, and silver-patterned felyne, waving happily while Halvor smirks down at him. “And you’re-!”

“Please feel free to call my meowster, Zo,” the white, tan, and chestnut-patterned palico states strongly next to her master. “And I’m Rhea.” The palico, ushered by her master’s huff, exits the quarters quickly.

“She’s, uh… she’s something…” Phelix states, face contorted with confusion and bewilderment.

The report regarding the Jagras culling Zlota submitted is detailed enough that the Commander thinks the huntress could be a hunter, handler, and researcher all at once. It’s both elegantly elaborate and concise, a hard bargain to pass up on. The man congratulates her when she turns for her next assignment and confirms the Guild’s belief that the woman can work alone. He advises her that Alexandros will be watching out in the field until all the hunters have their senses and groundwork, to which the woman agrees via nodding a lot. The man also brings up a board made of smoothed stone for the woman to write on, providing her with some white chalk also. They have a brief conversation in front of some other hunters watching the exchange before the huntress is heading back into the Ancient Forest.

The kestodon provide little challenge to the two A-list hunters. Halvor, having chosen the long sword as well, times his attacks well to match the pace Zlota is going. While scouting ahead, she finds a Great Jagras and gains Alexandros’s signal to hunt it. The masked hunter pushes the redhead forward to deal with the beast while she takes on a different assignment to build a campsite. The Commander’s grandson accompanies her while she looks around, finally finding a nice spot in Sector 11. Upon arriving at the top of the vines, a pale monster catches their eyes. Through the tight-holed, dark mesh Zlota finds the other’s pale blue orbs, seeking his approval to deal with the monster. He nods, watching as the woman steps to the left to begin cornering the monster.

They both halt, the huntress’s hand ready to unsheathe her weapon, as the beast turns around, a nicely sculpted piece of poultry in its claws. It shrieks in surprise, letting go of the pot, and dashes away, the clay shattering between the hunters and making them jump back to evade impact. “We won’t be able to set up camp with that Kulu-Ya-Ku running around, we’ll have to take care of it.” The woman punches the man in the shoulder, surprising him when he’s forced to lurch backward despite his musculature being two to three times thicker than hers. She thumps her own chest twice with a fist before stalking away to find where the wyvern is headed.

Halvor’s still chasing the Great Jagras when the Kulu-Ya-Ku limps by, Zlota hot on its trail. She watches it head deeper into the forest while the redhead lands a nice hit on the green and yellow fanged wyvern. It spins to limp away into its den, the woman jumping into action to quickly capture it with a couple of tranq bombs and a shock trap before moving to dash after the bird wyvern. Halvor rushes into the jagras den to find the alpha sleeping and captured, and then he’s barking a laugh while chasing after the woman. She finds the next beast sleeping too and captures that one as well, accepting the fist bump her fellow hunter provides.

When reunited with the field team leader and Kayla, they begin looking for Zorah Magdaros tracks. The woman stops beside some iridescent blue-green feathers floating on the water, kneeling to pick one up and inspect it in the light. The handler also kneels to look at the feathers, beginning to talk about a lead to the elder dragon. The Pukei-Pukei they encounter instead vigorously marks its territory with poison spitballs, spewing the purple stuff all over. With the sun setting, the four and their palicos return to Astera to finalize and hand in their reports to the Commander.

“Feel free to call me Keelan, you two,” the man states, arms crossed over his chest as he studies Zlota’s report intensely. In the margins, she’s got beautiful descriptions about how the monsters act and look like, a large portion detailing the Pukei-Pukei feather she retrieved. The sketches she’s drawn also reinforce how hard the newly-arrived huntress works despite having only crossed the sea a short four days ago. The huntress is studying the crudely drawn map on the table, the Commander laughing as she leans forward—almost onto her face—to view the poor details. “If you want to correct it, be my guest.” The curt thumbs-up from the woman makes Keelan chuckle.

It’s the first night the Fifth Fleet members can relax. Most join each other in the Gathering Hub and canteen to gorge themselves for their hunts and investigations tomorrow, and a few stick around Astera’s scholars to discuss things. Halvor and Phelix, having toasted at their table and decided to go to the stockpile to buy things, spot Zlota standing with the wyvernian heading the Commission’s ecological research, pointing to things in her reports to the Commander.

“Bet under that veil, she’s actually pretty but insecure,” Phelix offers, leaning against the boxes of the stockpile, mug of mead in one hand. “What do you think, Ivan?”

“She’s something, real talented at least. Pretty nice to be around, too. Gets the job done,” the blond hunter supplies, chugging his mead.

“Gets it done fast,” Halvor replies, crossing his arms with a concentrated face.

“Still hung up about what the Commander said?” the strawberry blond questions somewhat politely.

“Yeah, but I don’t know why I worry. She’ll get here eventually.” Halvor turns to look at the sea’s waves lapping into each other, picturing the port of Minegarde. “I just wish she’d have been here from the start.”

“She leave you… or something?”

“Dunno, she left on some assignments and never returned home,” Halvor’s reply sounds sad, as if he’s in pain, and Phelix stands back, having no idea how to comfort his fellow hunter. “Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. If she is here, I’ll run to the ends of the New World to be with her again. She’s got nowhere to go this time.” From the corner of his teal eye, the redhead can see Ivan walking away with Zo, a giant smile on his face.

Phelix starts laughing as he gets a look too. “Bet he’s gonna get lucky!”

“Think he likes her?”

“She’s got a nice body, dude! Heard she bumped Alexandros out in the field and made him stagger, so she’s gotta be strong!”

“Hope Ivan can survive the night then.”

The night itself was wonderful once Ivan linked up with Zlota. Despite being mute, her aura is comforting to sit in, allowing the man to relax. The woman changed her armor since she’d gone on some assignments, now sporting her bone mail and vambraces, hunter coil, and alloy greaves with her normal helm still on. The blond can see a few scars littered around her stomach, very thin and very light—they’ve healed well—and a dangling piercing from her navel in the shape of a Rathalos tail. It’s finely detailed, and most likely relatively expensive.

From his side, Zo sits on his bed, books scattered in front of her. “You really are an A-lister, huh?” he asks, amused by her intense studying. “Always the first one out, always the last one back. You trying to keep everyone safe or something?” Ivan leans back against his headboard, arms crossed over his chest. The woman turns her head to face him, the masking mesh a barrier for his eyes; she hums, surprising the other for a second before it briefly fades. Some mutes can still make noise, just can’t form sentences.

She grunts lowly as she plops herself against his private room’s walls, wedged next to a shelf so she doesn't topple over; somehow Ivan got the jackpot because his roommates would be with each other in another room instead of his. Whatever, more me-time for Ivan. Her longsword is braced by the wall beside her, and she sits with one leg bent, the other hooked underneath. She cracks her neck slowly before exhaling and leaning sagging against the wall.

At some point, Ivan gets to bed, and he recalls seeing the woman still slumped there sleeping. He knows she’d be annoyed if she got moved during the night, so the man throws a blanket over her form before curling into his own set of sheets. In the dawning sun, he can see the blanket is thrown over him instead, and there’s a radiating heat next to him. “Wh-wha! What?” A hand clamps over his mouth before he can make any more noise and the revealed smirk which emerges from under the covers gets his heart thumping. Her hand is still pressed tightly over his mouth despite the vibrations underneath and his breath shooting out rapidly, eyebrows twitching as his eyes are squeezed shut.

The blond can see the Pink Rathian helm still on her head, mesh folded up so her face is more visible. He doesn’t get any details due to his scorching body, blurred eyesight, and throbbing flesh. “Good figured you’d be up for round two,” she states, huffing quietly in his ear as she climbs onto his pelvis. His breath is muffled again as she continues, pushing him over the edge again. Ivan flops against the bed noiselessly, panting heavily. “W-why?” he asks.

“Figured I’d help you out,” she retorts, beginning to dress her torso again. Once the woman has her pants and boots back on, she’s leaving his room, having pulled the mesh back over her face and secured it.

“Ha!” he laughs, still recuperating on the bed. “What the hell…”

As the sun rises, many hunters from the Fifth Fleet go about their duties, be it moving necessary materials or going into the field to hunt and gather. At the gate, Halvor waits for his partner Ivan, both going out to gather monster materials for armor and weapons. They arrive at the camp in Sector 11, greeted by the sight of someone jogging into the vined portion of the forest.

“We’re not the only ones busy, I guess,” the blond states, wrapping his arm around the redhead’s shoulders to guide him correctly. “Anjanath’s coming now. Ready?” As the two hunters set out to reach Sector 6, the target monster’s head peeks around the corner, walking towards them. Halvor’s preparing to pull out his longsword, but something colliding into the wall next to him, some parts shattering across his face, makes him stop. Above, the ever-becoming familiar sight of an Old World Pink Rathian helm comes into view on a branch; the woman swirls her finger in a circle horizontally, indicating the hunters need to hurry. When the two stand there cluelessly, she points to beside herself, and Ivan is pushing his partner to start climbing.

When they settle next to the woman, the Anjanath stalks slowly beyond their eyesight, and Zlota is furiously writing as it moves. The beast stops to sneeze, some mucus shooting out from its protrusible nostrils, and then moves past the camp and away. She elbows Halvor roughly, gaining his attention quickly, and makes him read a message on a margin. “You can go capture it now,” he states, letting the blond hunter know, too. Zo folds her book and charcoal stick away, jumping down from the branch and moving back to the camp.

“She really is different, isn’t she?” the redhead asks with a thoughtful tone.

“Well, the Guild said she actually chose to come here,” the other replies. “Lots of people say you have to be different to want and chose to come without some assignment or reward.” There’s a pause as they jump down from their place, hearing the woman’s wingdrake fly her somewhere. “Didn’t you choose to come here too?”

Halvor appears to be both skeptical and intrigued, as well as apprehensive. He doesn’t answer for a moment, only stepping back a few steps from the man. Heterochromatic eyes dart back and forth, gazing at nothing particular on the forest floor, before the redhead looks back up, orbs still apprehensive but now reminiscent. “It’s complicated.”

A loud—almost obnoxiously so—laugh snaps him out of his mindset, startling him, orbs wide, and Ivan grabs his hair, ruffing him around a little. The redhead grimaces happily as his hair is pulled friendly. “I won’t pry,” the blond states, smiling. “It’s your story to tell. Talk about it when you want, kid.”

“Who’re you calling ‘kid?’” Halvor jokes.

“Forgot to say: I’m thirty-three.”

“What? No way, man…” There’s a pause, allowing the younger to let the truth sink in. “Damn, you don’t look that old.” There’s another laugh, quieter this time, from Ivan as they venture to find the Anjanath to get their materials.

“You should talk with her, ya know. You’re a lot alike.”

“If she’s still out here, I might talk to her.”

“Ya like her, don’tcha?” Halvor hums in response, one that sounds like he’s trying to be indifferent but the unregulated inflection at the end lets Ivan know he does. “I meant she’d be a good friend, Halvor. Bit too sisterly, I think.”

“You think so?” the redhead questions. “Hmph, maybe I’ll have to rethink making a move on her then, huh?”

“Maybe! But you won’t know until you talk to her.”

The Anjanath is down and out before dusk sets in, and both hunters are happy to have captured the thing. Some research hunters from the Fourth and Fifth Fleets get the beast on a contraption to take it into Astera for research, and Ivan escorts them back, having said goodbye to his friend already. The redhead makes his way to the camp in Sector 1, stopping when Zlota is sitting on a rock, doing something in her book.

“Good drawing,” he states, taking a seat next to her after looking at a Rathalos depiction. She hums in reply, shuffling a little to reposition her body. “Like the New World so far?” A quick affirmation is written along with a question to one side of the paper. “Yeah, I do, too. Nice change of pace from Dundorma.”

The woman hums again, folding her book and stylus into a bag she’s got to her side. It’s also full of mushrooms and herbs. The redhead leans back on one arm, his upper body shifting a little closer to the other, and his eyes close. There’s a caress of warm fingertips across his hand as she shuffles closer to him, slotting her head onto his shoulder. Halvor freezes instantly at the contact, before relaxing and letting his cheek fall onto her head.

Her aura has a powerful feel to it despite the person being so quiet, so strong that Halvor can feel it tug at his soulstrings. He sighs—one full of both calmness and exhaustion—as tension evaporates from his body. The woman remains still as he shifts, either not bothered or just considerate as her companion gets comfortable, but she has a stiffness to her that tells him she’s still alert.

“My sister’s a lot like you,” he states. There’s no reply; he wasn’t expecting one. “Damn Felixiae, she was supposed to be here.” The woman abruptly stands up, making the redhead think he’s offended her. Instead, she offers him a hand, pulling him off the ground swiftly and easily. He stands there for a minute, something familiar yet off about the change in Zo’s aura, and his eyes widen as he understands. His arms are suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her into an embrace as her compassion smacks him across the face. Her arms loop themselves tightly around his neck, and her shoulder becomes mildly wet. There’s a thump on his shoulder, indicating he needs to let go, and the masked woman grips his hands in hers gently.

Above, the sound of wings flapping indicates a Rathalos is here to grab a meal. Zlota quickly drops her fellow hunter’s hands before jogging away. Halvor watches the beast observe but not attack them before providing a warning roar. The redhead dashes to meet up with his companion on her way back to Astera, both walking silently.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning, Halvor meets with Ivan at the Canteen to discuss the Commission’s objective before setting out. “Going after a bird wyvern: Pukei-Pukei,” the redhead states, gulping down some mead. “Should be easy enough.”

“Aye, shouldn’t be difficult, not with Zlota’s notes at least.” They both can recall how detailed the sketches and pages were. There are beautifully drawn feathers--small and large--on several pages, submitted to Ecological Research, and glorious aspects about the purple poison ejected from the monster’s mouth. The poison—according to Zlota—is similar to Rathian poisons, save for the subtracted effect of getting flung by a tail prior to being poisoned. Instead, as the beast feasts on berries, fruits, and nuts, the compounds in those objects get stored inside of a poison sac to be spit out later. One page describes the particular symptoms and side-effects of the poison, courtesy of a Research Hunter willing to be hit by a vial of the poison. He experiences a loss of breath immediately and slightly sluggish movements. When standing still, his body sways as he grabs at his chest, and two other hunters run over immediately to administer an antidote.

“Wasn’t wise of Roren to do that,” Halvor states, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth.

“Nope, but that’s his job, I guess. Gog forbid anyone else does it.”

“May the Priestesses and Trinity watch over his soul.”

“That… some Dundorma thing?” Ivan’s staring at his companion with a skeptical look, eyes narrowed but curious-looking.

“It’s the new gods, some temple people heard words from the divine. Or, uh… something like that. If Felixiae was here, you’d be able to ask her. She used to be part of the temple before leaving on assignments. Second place she went after going to the Wyvernian temple.”

“Your own sister never went home to see you?”

“Never, I’ve always been the one to find her. And when she did go into the house, it was when I wasn’t there.”

“She sounds like an interesting character… Hmph, speaking of ‘interesting,’ as enjoyable as this conversation about the new gods is, Zlota’s waiting at the gate down there. She must be going with.”

Halvor leaves his food reluctantly to Ivan and the newly arrived Fiver they’re liking, Errik. He’s an eater and a good talker but rarely leaves on tough assignments. Granted he’s a C-lister so he’s required to wait until good research on monsters comes up, and by the time he’s out in the field, he knows what the monster’s going to be like.

When the redhead meets the masked woman, she shoves some antidote herbs into his arms before calling her wingdrake with the wooden instrument she carries. The small wyvern is larger than others of its species with scars on its legs; the hunter can tell it’s been her companion for a while despite the order for wingdrake training to begin four months prior to joining the Fifth Fleet. He follows suit, landing in the camp in Sector 11 with the woman. She tilts her head over to the item box while scribbling notes down with her thin charcoal.

 _Traps._ Halvor looks over to Zlota, no longer paying attention to him. _Traps and tranq bombs, my lucky day…_

The Pukei-Pukei hunt begins and ends the same way, the damn monster chewing on scatternuts. Luckily, it’d be weaker than expected, especially after the tail is severed by Halvor’s counterattack with his sword and its wings broken, holes now littering them. The hunter sits near the captured monster, cleaning his weapon with the accompanying shield on the ground, and waits for the research hunters to mobilize equipment and retrieve their new focal monster. The clean cloth Halvor pulls from a small pouch is lightly dapped against some conditioning oil, and the fabric slides smoothly against the blade. The action becomes familiar to every hunter after a set amount of time working for the Guild. Still, the redheaded male furrows his eyebrows and forces himself to focus on cleaning and conditioning the blade. Instead, a strange feeling is produced as he swipes the cloth lightly. When he lifts the blade to see the integrity of its edge, Halvor tilts his head to the side, heterochromatic eyes looking past the object but at nothing in particular.

He huffs slightly as he slowly blinks, remembering his first lessons in weapon and shield upkeep. The books he read were once his sister’s, left behind in their small Dundorma house by the once-younger-hunter prior to her disappearance. She’d left him many books, stacks upon stacks on the floor, filling the hallway when he awoke to an empty dwelling for breakfast. Those days of expecting to make meals with the company of family were long gone, forever non-existent after Felixiae left.

The sounds of wheels turning and chains, voices muttering their annoyances, brought him back to the present, a reminiscent look still filling his orbs. Ivan smirks from above, flipping a piece of parchment into his lap. Apparently, some research hunters and their accompanying scholars were able to analyze the slag dropped by Zorah Magdaros already, thanks to the redhead and his quick, efficient work. The note also has a nice congratulations from Astera’s favorite hunter, and a note about their assignment: Zlota’s to clear the path into the Wildspire Waste while Halvor escorts the scholars. They’ll be making the journey in a matter of hours.

The man stands, sheathing his weapon, and makes the quick walk back into the village to pack some things. At the gate, some scholars stand, discussing with Kayla. _She looks excited._ Halvor smiles slightly, the facial expression quickly fading when Zlota silently brushes past him to toss a few items to his handler before tracking out into the wilderness.

The Wildspire Waste—a great wasteland of desert sand and large crags protruding from the earth, so large they can be seen from a long distance. Upon entering, Halvor sees his masked companion walking up a small hill, evidently ensuring no monsters are in the scholar’s way to another slag dropped by Zorah Magdaros, immediately confirmed by Zlota’s scoutflies turning a brilliant blue as she walks toward the middle of the waste. The scholar’s cart reaches the bottom of the chosen hill, and everyone pauses as a sound—a roar—is heard. It’s somewhat distinctive, Halvor’s heard it before, and he racks his brain to remember. His heterochromatic orbs flicker back and forth, seeing nothing but the pages of his Old World notes. The structure of a green-scaled, flying wyvern emerges from the dozens of monsters he’s encountered before, the tail tip a multi-thorned array of poisonous barbs. “Rathian,” he whispers, simultaneously as a short Wyvernian scholar rushes forward to explain a Rathian is present in the next sector, already engaged in fleeing from Zlota’s hunting prowess.

From the top, as the others rest, Halvor watches the hunter kneel down to scrap some scales into her scoutfly pouch then rush off to continue the fight. Upon exiting the Rathian’s area, the redhead successfully shows the scholars to the magma-filled slag. The Wyvernians approach happily to examine the object but halt when their scoutflies turn a bright red, scattering into the air. There’s a rumbling to their right, and a Barroth signals its entrance by smashing an anthill then heading to face the scholars.

“Go!” Halvor shouts, turning to his handler and extending an arm to indicate they need to move immediately. Kayla makes quick work of getting the cart moving, along with guiding the scholars to a place to hide for the moment. The Barroth gives chase despite the redheaded hunter standing in front of it, and Halvor has no choice but to dodge out of the way, grab some scatternuts on the ground, then roll under the monster’s legs to shoot the slinger ammo into its face.

The brute wyvern roars as it falls to the side, smashing another anthill under its weight. The moment Halvor watches the monster stand again, his peripheral vision picks up a fast-moving figure chasing a Rathian down a hill. Zlota’s easily recognizable with her swift shadow and quiet steps, and that’s the last thought the redheaded hunter has his focus back on the angry monster in front of him. The thing curls down onto itself, head lowered.

 _Well, well._ A smirk develops on half of Halvor’s face as the monster comes rushing forward, an easily distinctive move, and easily dodges it, providing a counter-strike to the Barroth’s leg. The limb slices open cleanly, making the monster exhausted for a moment, and the hunter takes an opportunity to begin a nice, fluid combo, each swing of his long sword filling his soul with fire and purpose. When he’s ready, Halvor runs to kick off the Barroth’s side, jumping up for a powerful spirit helmbreaker.

The Barroth doesn’t last much longer after Halvor’s bit of fun with the easy, predictable monster. After a bit, the exhausted thing begins limping back to its swamp, probably hoping to just get some sleep and heal its wounds. Halvor gives chase to find the monster sleeping in muck, and the hunter rummages through his small bag to find no shock trap present. The redhead clicks his tongue impatiently, tossing down two tranq bombs to begin the capturing process. He’s about to head back to grab a trap when he sees one already placed on the ground.

He laughs—a breathless, long-winded laugh—and slings a rock at the Barroth to get its attention. The monster comes running over only to be captured, flopping onto its side to sleep again. Halvor takes a deep breath before heading back to the slag. He finds Kayla scraping some of the slag into her scoutfly cage, explaining to Zlota that the scholars are safe and hidden. She turns to smile at Halvor, beaming intensely when he nods with a neutral face and states she’s going to round them up before skipping away.

Halvor watches his handler run, sighing as Zlota stands next to him silent as always. “She’s pretty enthusiastic, no matter what the job is…” His voice trails off into a nice silence, only disrupted when the woman next to him turns to the side, one hand coming up to grab her weapon.

“You there. Are you both part of the Fifth Fleet?” The new hooded figure asks quietly, supposedly calming the hunter as her hand drops back down to her side. Halvor steps around the woman’s frame to see the First Fleet’s banner around the person’s insect glaive.

“We are,” the man provides, eyes flickering to the side to watch Zlota’s reaction. She’s tense, as if she doesn’t trust this person. The newcomer mentions the return of the Elder Crossing and removes the hood, pointed ears coming into view. _A Wyvernian hunter?_

The man stands, staring at the slag across from the two Fifth Fleet hunters, then moves to observe them. Halvor can see his eyes narrow as he glances over Zlota. “I too am a hunter, of the First Fleet. Might I trouble you, to share your tale with me?” The Wyvernian looks to Halvor for his answer, meeting his eyes since the woman’s are shielded from view. The redhead nods, stating that they should return to the camp. “Come.” The Wyvernian begins to lead, the tip of his glaive thudding against the sand softly as he walks.

Halvor senses some shift in his normal companion as he walks next to the First Fleet hunter. Zolta walks behind them slowly, ensuring there’s distance, but appears to follow the Wyvernian’s footprints. _Can’t blame her, haven’t ever seen a Wyvernian hunter before. Do his footprints look like ours? And that glaive is acting more like a walking stick than a weapon. Why?_

It’s long until they reach the camp, and the woman—a normal go-getter to impress people, scholars and hunters alike—recedes into the tent rather than the wooden logs surrounding the burnt-out campfire. As their new companion settles himself, the redhead enters the tent to check on his friend, only to be roughly pushed out of the way as she moves to light the campfire with ease, chipping two sparking rocks together. After she scurries into the tent again, this time not reappearing.

“Curious, that one,” the Wyvernian hunter states, pouring some heated mead into two cups, passing one to Halvor. “Has she vowed not to speak?”

“Zlota’s a selective mute, sir. Battle-cries are about the only noise I’ve ever heard her make aside from when she hums when she understands.” Halvor turns to the man, going to say something snarky when he’s caught up in the deep brown eyes examining him.

“You look incredibly like your sister.” The young hunter’s eyes bulge out, making the other smile sadly. “She didn’t come with you, Halvor? I remember seeing you as a baby, and Felixiae, well… Heh, she was always getting into trouble.”

“Sh-she isn’t here, sir.”

“Hm, maybe she is, and you just haven’t found her. I can feel her presence in the air. Please call me Pendric.” The First Fleet hunter drinks a little before setting his cup back down. “For now, please tell me how things in Astera are going.”

Zorah Magdaros’s appearance, disappearance, and slags. Other details pertaining to monster ecology research as well as the people who he’s met in Astera. “So my old friends are well, praise be.”

“The scholars keep us busy, especially Zlota,” Halvor laughs.

Pendric smiles lightly. “Might I ask, are you tracking the monster that dropped that slag?”

“It’s the primary focus of the Research Commission currently, sir.”

“I see. It is my focus as well. It seems so easy… Follow the trail, find the truth…” There’s a pause in their conversation. The man turns to his elder, confusion clear on his face. Zlota emerges from the tent with her palico, quickly walking to the exit to see the scholars at the bottom of a hill with Kayla chatting. The Wyvernian’s voice gathers her attention, and she turns back to listen. “Well, it has been a pleasure. Please pass a message to the Commander that I am well, but a force compels me on. And I intend to see where it takes me. If you both feel so compelled, perhaps we will meet again at the end of all this.”

The man raises his hood and begins walking only to stop at Zlota’s side. “To the east, you will find my camp. Make good use of it.” The Wyvernian shifts his body as the scholars walk in, Kayla running up to speak with Halvor, and the First Fleet hunter takes the opportunity to grab the woman’s bicep in a friendly grip. “Whatever it is you’re doing or planning, do be careful not to make the wrong choices. I trust you’ll know where to find me. Our little secret.” The woman huffs, brushing the man’s arm off, then marching to the tent to gather her things. It’s time they all went home.


End file.
